


Like That

by flamewarrior



Series: Memories and Secrets [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Potions-induced consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-02
Updated: 2005-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamewarrior/pseuds/flamewarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco uses a combination of potions to get what he wants from Harry, but ends up with more than he'd bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [an AWDT challenge.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=an+AWDT+challenge.).



Draco grinned as Potter shut his eyes and frowned. Good, the first potion had just worn off, right on cue.

"Did you enjoy that, Potter?"

The boy beneath him closed his eyes even tighter, tears starting to show at the corners of his eyes.

"Yes." His tone was flat, resigned. Then he whispered, "But I didn't want it to be like that."

Draco's brow furrowed for a moment, then his eyes widened and he broke a sneering grin. "Were you a virgin, Potter?"

"Yes." Potter's voice sounded broken.

"You didn't want your first time to be 'like that'?"

"Yes," he hissed, turning his face away, tears flowing freely, "and I didn't want _our_ first time to be like that."

It took a moment for the words to register their meaning in Draco's mind, piecing itself together after his orgasm. He shifted on his elbows, careful not to move his softening cock, still partway inside Potter. Then the words did register, and all he could do was stare. He stared at Potter's messy dark hair, his delicate ear, his flushed neck, his arms held high above his head, his hands tied to the bedframe, his face, screwed up and turned away from him. Was that pain on Potter's face, or shame, or was it something else entirely?

Draco's voice was careful, controlled. "And what did you want it to be like, _our_ first time?"

Potter's face tensed impossibly tighter, his jaw and lips working to keep his mouth shut. Draco glanced at the clock by his bed. Surely the second potion should still be working? Then Potter relaxed his face and opened his eyes, turning his head to look straight at Draco. "I wanted to know exactly who I was, and what I was doing, and why," his voice died away to a whisper, "and I wanted you to like me first."

Draco stared into Potter's eyes, gazed at his tear-stained face, and something inside him twisted and split.

He wanted to laugh out loud. Potter had wanted him, Draco, to like him, and then to fuck him. This information was gold-dust, and so much more than he'd hoped for from this exercise. Even if he couldn't complete the near-impossible mission the Dark Lord had given him, surely he could buy his own and his parents' lives with the possibilities this opened up?

And he wanted to sob and cry. Potter had wanted him, Draco, to like him, and then to fuck him. Potter had wanted him. Potter had _wanted_ him. Potter had wanted _him_. The phrase chased itself round and round his head, followed by a reluctant question: would he ever want him again?

Draco gripped Potter's shoulders, finger nails digging into hard muscle. "How long have you wanted me?"

Potter's eyes darkened, but he did not look away. "Since third year, when Hermione hit you and I saw the startled look on your face. I'd never seen your face open like that before, just you, not your name or your pride or your wealth or your snobbery. I wanted what I saw."

Draco frowned, puzzled. "So why did you still act as if you hated me?"

"Because I couldn't let myself know I wanted you then. I hated you too much."

Draco gulped, fighting to maintain control of himself, to stop his voice from shaking. "When did you let yourself know?"

"Tonight, when you forced me to take Amortentia. When we first saw it in that Potions lesson, it smelled of chocolate and Quidditch leathers and the air just before a storm and something I recognised, but couldn't place. Tonight, when I smelled it again, I realised it smelled of you."

Draco stared at Harry again, not knowing what to think, not knowing how to feel. A question presented itself to him, and he pushed it away. It nudged into his thoughts again, and again he pushed it back. But the third time, shivering, the question overpowered him. Closing his eyes, his voice ragged, he asked it:

"And do you still want me, now?"

He held his breath, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And...

"You'll never know."

Draco's eyes shot open, taking in Potter's face. It was still tear-stained, but closed off, sneering. Triumphant, even with the tip of Draco's flaccid cock still in his hole.

His eyes darted to the clock. Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn it all to hell! Abruptly he pushed himself off Potter, off the bed. Picking up his wand from the nightstand, he muttered a cleansing charm on himself and got dressed, his back to the boy still lying behind him. He was furious with himself. How could he have let himself get affected like that?

He stood straight, forcing his breath to slow, his muscles to relax, his mind and his emotions to still. When he turned to face Potter again, he was in control, at last.

"Well, Potter, as fascinating as this conversation has been, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

Potter snorted. "You let me up off this bed, Malfoy, and I'll beat you to a pulp, then I'll tell Dumbledore exactly what you did."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "You'd shame yourself in front of the headmaster, and probably the whole school? Oh, of course, I was forgetting. You're a Gryffindor, you have no shame." For a moment, he was worried, then he scoffed at himself. He'd planned for this possibility, hadn't he? "But of course, Potter, you have no proof. That's the great advantage of using potions, especially if they're brewed by someone else; no possibility of _Priori Incantatem_." He felt a small rush of triumph as Potter's face showed a moment's dismay before closing up into a snarl.

Lazily, he raised his wand and muttered, "_Stupefy_."


End file.
